FANFAIR

Hot Reels

In an era when even “independent” films seem ever more formulaic, it’s heartening to see a studio—Warner Bros.—release a movie as totally bonkers as The Fountain. This is Darren Aronofsky’s first film since Requiem for a Dream, a ridiculously over-the-top cautionary tale (message: drugs are bad) that due to some odd alignment of stars and taste many people took seriously. The Fountain is likewise ridiculously over the top, but it is also singular and heartfelt. Boy, is it singular: a story about grief and about man’s quest for immortality, set in three different time periods—the 16th century, the present, and a future that is metaphoric, unless Aronofsky is truly positing that people will someday travel through the cosmos in giant meditation-powered soap bubbles. Hugh Jackman is the constant through all three strands—variant hairstyles help us tell when he is playing a conquistador, a medical researcher, or a spaceman—while Rachel Weisz repeats her Oscar-winning role from The Constant Gardener as a doomed wife. They are as committed to the material as their director, who, whatever his lapses, has a genuine gift for pop poetry. (It’s too bad his Batman: Year One project never got made.) Many people will probably dismiss The Fountain—it was dumped on at the Venice and Toronto film festivals—but it begs to be seen. If you’re in a generous frame of mind, you may even be moved. And as for spectacle, imagine if Ken Russell, or maybe Leni Riefenstahl, had directed 2001. Bonkers in a good way.